A Lotus for Miss Quon

by James Hadley Chase

  The two men watched Nhan enter the apartment block and they exchanged glances.

  “It could be her,” the Inspector said and he got out of the car. “Wait here.”

  Nhan ran up the stairs to the second floor. She paused outside the front door of her apartment to calm herself. She must not frighten her brothers. It was going to be difficult to explain to them that she was going away. She must make them believe she was very happy. They were fond of her. If they believed she was really happy, they might not mind so much that she was leaving them.

  She practised a smile tentatively. The muscles of her face were so stiff the smile was painful. She turned the handle, pushed open the door and walked into the living-room.

  The sight of a strange man standing in the middle of the room brought her to an abrupt halt. There was no one else in the room. She didn’t have to be told that this man was from Security Police. The shabby European suit, the expressionless face, the glittering alert eyes could belong to no one else except a member of Security Police.

  She stood motionless, feeling the blood draining out of her heart and a sensation of cold passing over her body.

  “You are Nhan Lee Quon?” the man asked in a hard, impersonal voice.

  She tried to say something but no sound came. She became aware of quick footsteps coming down the passage, then Inspector Ngoc-Linh came into the room.

  She recognized him. The Inspector was well known in Saigon. She remembered what the fortune-teller had told her. The next two days will be the most critical in your life.

  “You are Nhan Lee Quon?” the Inspector said, staring at her. “You are a taxi-dancer at the Paradise Club?”

  “Yes.”

  She forced the word past her stiff lips.

  “You are to come with me,” the Inspector said. He signalled to the detective who moved past her and opened the door. He went into the passage and stood waiting.

  “Where is my mother?” Nhan asked.

  The Inspector motioned to the bedroom door.

  “Come with me.”

  “Could I not see her and my brothers?” Nhan asked.

  “Not now - later.” He took hold of her arm and moved her out of the room.

  The detective went on ahead, Nhan followed him, the Inspector brought up the rear.

  Nhan had difficulty in going down the stairs. She was trembling violently. Once she stumbled, and the Inspector caught hold of her arm. He continued to hold her arm until they reached the lobby, then he released her.

  The detective led the way to the car and opened the rear door. Nhan got into the car and the Inspector slid in beside her.

  Several people paused to stare. They knew this was a car belonging to Security Police. They wondered what the detectives were going to do with Nhan.

  The car pulled away and drove fast towards Headquarters. The time was a minute to ten past six.

  Nhan sat huddled up in the corner. Her mind was paralysed with terror. What was going to happen to her? Would she ever see Steve again?

  It only took two minutes for the car to reach Headquarters. As soon as the car pulled up in the yard, the Inspector got out.

  “Come,” he said.

  Nhan got out. Her legs were so unsteady she would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her arm. He bustled her through a doorway, along a passage, pushing her roughly ahead of him.

  There was a door at the end of the passage. The Inspector knocked on the door, opened it and pushed Nhan into Colonel On-dinh-Khuc’s office.

  The Colonel sat at his desk, waiting. At another desk by the window Lam-Than was busy with a bulky file. He didn’t bother to look up when Nhan came in.

  She stared at the Colonel, feeling a prickle of horror over her skin.

  The Inspector pushed her in front of the desk.

  “Nhan Lee Quon, sir,” he said.

  The Colonel looked at his wrist watch. The time was fourteen minutes past six.

  “You are late,” he said.

  The Inspector didn’t say anything. There was a pause, then the Colonel waved him away. The Inspector went out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.

  The Colonel stared for a long moment at Nhan, then he leaned forward, resting his fat hands on the blotter.

  “You are Nhan Lee Quon?”

  Nhan nodded.

  “You are a taxi-dancer at the Paradise Club?”

  Again she nodded.

  “You have associated with an American, Steve Jaffe?”

  Her heart contracted. The sound of Steve’s name stiffened her courage. For the first time since she had entered her apartment and had been confronted by the detective, her mind began to work. This man, sitting at the desk, wanted to know where Steve was. She would have to be very careful what she said. Whatever happened to her, this man mustn’t find Steve.

  “Yes.”

  “When did you last see him?”

  She hesitated, then said, “Sunday evening.”

  “You haven’t seen him since?”

  “No.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The Colonel made an impatient movement.

  “I asked you where he is.”

  “I don’t know.” This time there was no hesitation. “Where were you this afternoon?”

  Be careful, Nhan told herself. Be very, very careful.

  “I went for a walk.”

  “Where?”

  “I just walked.”

  The Colonel reached out for a cigarette. He lit it while he stared at the girl.

  “Listen to me,” he said. “I know you are lying. I intend to find the American. You know where he is. If you tell me and when I have found him, you will be released and you can return to your family. If you don’t tell me, I will force you to speak. It is important to the State that the American should be found. It is of no importance to the State what happens to you. There are many ways of making the most obstinate person tell us what we want to know. You will save yourself a great deal of suffering, if you tell the truth now and at once. If you are obstinate, I will hand you over to men who are experts at making people talk. Do you understand?”

  In twenty-nine hours, Nhan thought, Steve will be safe. If I can only keep silent until then, he will be out of their reach. Twenty-nine hours! The thought of those long hours stretching ahead of her like eternity filled her with cold despair.

  “Do you understand?” the Colonel asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Very well.” He leaned further forward. “Where is the American, Jaffe?”

  She raised her head and looked directly into the black eyes staring at her.

  “I don’t know.”

  The Colonel stubbed out his cigarette, then pressed a button on the side of his desk.

  There was a long pause while he began to examine some papers lying before him. Lam-Than got up and brought the file over. He put it down close to the Colonel’s hand.

  “You need only sign this, sir,” he said. “It is of no importance.”

  Nhan felt tears running down her face. She brushed them away with the back of her hand. The sound of a door opening made her stiffen. The two little men who had drowned Dong Ham in a bucket of water came in. They paused just inside the room, waiting.

  The Colonel signed the paper and handed the file to Lam-Than who returned to his desk, then he looked at the two little men.

  “This woman has information I want quickly,” he said. “Take her away and break her obstinacy. Work quickly, but whatever you have to do to her to make her talk, be very sure she does not die.”

  As the two little men moved towards her, Nhan began to scream.

  2

  Colonel On-dinh-Khuc was finishing a meal of Cha Gio and crab-meat which he washed down with warm Chinese wine. From time to time he glanced at the gold clock on his desk. The time was twenty minutes to nine.

  The woman had been in the hands of his men now for three hours. The fact that the information he was waiting for had
n’t already been conveyed to him surprised him. Up to now his men had been able to obtain information from their victims very speedily. This delay irritated him, but he had considerable confidence in his men. It was this woman and her ridiculous obstinacy that irritated him. He made a snarling grimace. Well, she was paying dearly for her obstinacy. His men were without pity. He wouldn’t wish to be a woman in their hands.

  He pushed aside his bowl and reached for an apple. This he polished on his sleeve before sinking his teeth into it. He was chewing slowly, relishing the taste of the apple when there came a tap on the door and Lam-Than came in.

  “The woman is now ready to talk,” he said. “Do you wish to question her yourself?”

  The Colonel took another bite from the apple.

  “She has taken her time. What degree of severity was used?”

  “The maximum,” Lam-Than said. “Knowing you wanted the information quickly, she was subjected to continuous pressure. She has only given in a few moments ago.”

  The Colonel finished his apple, then pushed back his chair and got to his feet.

  “I will question her myself,” he said. “Come with me.”

  They left the office and walked down a passage, down a flight of stairs to the room where prisoners were questioned.

  It was a small room: its floor and walls tiled in white. A steel table, its feet clamped to the floor, stood under a powerful ceiling lamp.

  Nhan lay on the table, her wrists and ankles held by straps. Her eyes were closed. Her face drawn and lined was greenish yellow. She breathed unevenly in short shuddering gasps.

  The two little men squatted side by side away from her.

  Both of them looked sweaty and bored. They stood up when the Colonel came in.

  He went over to Nhan and stood looking down at her.

  “Well? Where is the American, Jaffe?”

  Nhan’s eyes opened slowly: they were misty as if she were only half conscious. She mumbled something the Colonel couldn’t hear.

  One of the little men came over to her and slapped her face. Her eyes opened wider and she cringed. Tears began to run down her face.

  “Where is the American, Jaffe?”

  The continuous torture she had been subjected to and the resulting agony had warned Nhan that further resistance was out of the question. She might, she told herself, be able to remain silent for perhaps another hour, but sooner or later, unless she gained a respite, she would break down and betray Steve. Already by suffering and resisting she had gained three hours for him, but the twenty-six remaining hours that stretched ahead of her before he would be safe was, she knew, an impossible test of endurance: she had to gain time. She had to convince this man bending over her that Steve was somewhere far from Thudaumot. While they were looking for him in this place, she would be able to gain strength to resist the next assault on her shuddering body.

  “In Dalat,” she whispered and closed her eyes.

  A few months ago Steve had taken her for a week-end to Dalat; a summer resort in the mountains where people went to escape the heat of the City. She remembered it well enough to lie about it.

  “Where in Dalat?” the Colonel asked, scowling.

  “In a house.”

  “Who owns the house?”

  “An American.”

  “Where is the house?”

  “It is the third house by the railway station: a house with a red roof and a yellow gate,” Nhan said, keeping her eyes closed, terrified he would know she was lying.

  The Colonel drew in a deep breath.

  “He is there now?”

  “Yes.”

  The Colonel leaned closer, his little eyes gleaming. He whispered so no one but Nhan could hear him. “He has the diamonds with him?”

  “Yes.”

  The Colonel straightened.

  “Come,” he said to Lam-Than. “I’ve wasted enough time already. I’m going to Dalat immediately.”

  Lam-Than was looking at Nhan.

  “She may be lying to gain time,” he said.

  The Colonel’s face darkened.

  “She wouldn’t dare! If she lied to me I would cut her to pieces!” He caught hold of Nhan’s arm and shook her.

  “Listen to me!” the Colonel snarled. “Are you lying? You’d better tell the truth. If I find you are lying, you will regret it.”

  Nhan shook her head weakly.

  She forced herself to say in a quavering voice, “It is the truth. He is in Dalat.”

  The Colonel pushed the little man away.

  “She isn’t lying,” he said. “She has had enough. She has been a fool to have resisted so long.” He started towards the door, then paused to look at the two little men. “Give her water and let her rest. Turn off the light. I will return in about ten hours. I’ll decide then what is to be done with her.”

  Nhan began to sob convulsively. Ten hours! With ten hours rest and only another sixteen hours to endure: surely she could hang on?

  Back in his office, the Colonel told Lam-Than to call Inspector Ngoc-Linh.

  “He and I will go to Dalat,” the Colonel said. “When we have killed the American and I have the diamonds, I will get rid of the Inspector. The American will have shot him, and in trying to protect the Inspector, I will have been forced to kill the American.”

  “You may not find the American there,” Lam-Than said. “I still think she could be lying.”

  “He will be there,” the Colonel snarled. “Your pessimism bores me. She was not lying.”

  Lam-Than bowed. He wasn’t convinced. He went away to fetch the Inspector.

  Chapter Fourteen

  1

  IT took five hours of difficult driving to reach Dalat. The road wasn’t good, and although the Colonel kept urging the Inspector to drive faster, the Inspector was handicapped by the darkness, and the surface of the road.

  They arrived at the Dalat railway station at two o’clock a.m. It took the Colonel a little over half an hour to convince himself there was no house near the station with a red roof and a yellow gate.

  The violence of his fury when he realized that Nhan had lied to him made the Inspector recoil from him. It was fortunate for Nhan that his maniacal rage made rational thought impossible. His only desire was to get back to Saigon as fast as he could and get his hands on this woman who had dared to have sent him on a wild goose chase. If he had paused to think, he would have gone to the police post and telephoned Lam-Than telling him to re-commence torturing Nhan immediately, but he was past thinking.

  He got back into the car and screamed at the Inspector to return to Saigon. The Inspector drove as fast as he dared, but it wasn’t fast enough. The Colonel suddenly yelled at him to stop and get out of the driving-seat. He got under the wheel himself, and for the next twenty miles the Inspector sat stiff with fear as the car roared madly down the winding road at a speed that invited disaster.

  It wasn’t long before the accident happened. Coming out of a sharp bend at an impossible speed, the car suddenly skidded, the off-side tyre burst and the car slammed into the face of the mountain.

  Although both men were severely shaken, neither of them were injured. It took them some minutes to recover. On inspection, the car was found to be wrecked beyond repair.

  The accident had happened on a lonely stretch of the road. The Inspector knew there was no chance of any car passing at this time in the morning. The nearest police post was thirty miles away. There was nothing to do but to sit by the side of the road and wait for the first car to come from Dalat.

  The two men waited seven hours before an old, dilapidated Citroen, driven by a Chinese peasant, came panting up the mountain road. The time now was ten o’clock and the heat of the sun had made the long wait unpleasant.

  The Colonel hadn’t spoken a word to the Inspector during the wait. He had sat on a rock, smoking cigarette after cigarette, his cruel yellow face set in an expression that chilled the Inspector’s blood.

  It took them another two hours to crawl t
o the police post in the panting Citroen. The Inspector telephoned for a fast car to be sent immediately.

  The Colonel sent no message to Lam-Than. He wished now to deal with Nhan personally. Nothing else could satisfy the vicious fury that boiled inside him.

  He arrived at Security Police Headquarters at half past one. He dismissed the Inspector, and then went to his private quarters where he took a shower, and changed his uniform. He had lunch. The atmosphere from his pent-up rage and the expression on his face terrified his servants.

  Lam-Than, hearing that his master had returned, came into his room while the Colonel was eating his lunch.

  The Colonel looked up. With his mouth crammed with food, he snarled, “Get out!”

  Startled by the mad gleam in the small bloodshot eyes, Lam-Than hurriedly backed out of the room.

  At twenty minutes past two, the Colonel finished his meal. He got to his feet. With thick, unsteady fingers, he undid the glittering buttons of his tunic which he took off and tossed on a chair. Then he went to the door, opened it and walked with a heavy measured tread down the passage, down the stairs to the room where Nhan still lay strapped to the steel table.

  The two executioners were squatting patiently either side of the door. They stood up when they saw the Colonel. “You will wait here,” he said, “until I call you.”

  He opened the door and went into the room, closing the door behind him. His hand groped for the light-switch and turned it on.

  Nhan was blinded for some seconds when the violent cruel light beat down on her. Then she saw the Colonel standing looking down at her. The expression on his face turned her sick.

  Steve! Steve! she thought wildly. Come and save me! Please; come and save me!

  But she knew Steve wasn’t coming. This was the moment she had waited for when she had lain in the dark, knowing it would come. This was the moment she had gained time for, to gain strength to keep silent.

  She stiffened her will.

  He won’t make me talk, she said to herself. Whatever he does to me, I will keep silent. I want Steve to get away. I want him to be happy with his money. Oh, Steve, Steve, Steve, don’t forget me. Think of me sometimes. Please, please don’t forget me.